Living this life as a writer, as a person who sits most comfortably with words inside my head rather than sharing them in the moment, presents some challenges. I’m a thinker, and frequently get caught up with the stories swirling around in my mind that don’t always seem to make it out while we’re together. But please know, I’m listening, watching, taking notes and storing the moments until I can put them down to share with you – for moments like now, when the candles are burning, and the sun is just making its way over the horizon, and my mind is clear and still and centered and grateful.
This fall, I’m grateful for the small moments of life. For fiercely loving the arms around me, pulling me in, inspiring me to be present, and forcing me to stand on my toes to connect with you. For warmth, comfort, and unconditional love to see me through the moments that feel like life will never be the same again.
I’m grateful for my home, for the space and warmth and comfort of a space that lets me sink in and feel safe, for a little corner to close off the world when I need it to, and to show me how to embrace what I love within the walls that have weathered decades of love and pain, joy and hopes and dreams.
I’m so thankful for strong women, for those that paved the way for me to walk in their footsteps and finish their unfinished dreams, for the women who have stepped in my way, have held me up and pushed me forward. I am most grateful for independent women who said hello, who worked alongside me, who held my babies when I couldn’t handle one more second – thank you. And to the women who check in, who don’t let go, who know that no matter what, I love knowing their spirits are in my life, I am forever appreciative.
I’m grateful for a year that led me to the beach of Carmel, the sky of Lake Tahoe, the energy of New York City, the vistas of Utah and the majesty of Yosemite. I’m grateful for safe travels, for wanderlust, for soft hotel room beds and journals filled with moments of the splendor of our country. I touched two oceans, soaked in the glittering mountain sun, climbed alongside cascading waterfalls and ancient glaciers and sipped coffee from west to east.
I’m thankful to have a job which forces me to create and nudge and dream and think about how, if we all work together, we can help transform our world into the place we dream of; for students that smile and make me laugh and take chances and think critically; for a country that hasn’t yet lost the value of education to empower our youth.
I’m grateful that all I have is all I need, that life has a way of working itself out, and that there is true magic in the extraordinary moments of life. I’m beholden to the writers and artists and thinkers who share their work with the world, who inspire me to think deeply and offer my own words to the Universe.
And for my son, my quirky, intelligent, clever boy, who taught me how to follow my dreams, to accept things I cannot change, and to never give up, I thank you.
For my daughter, my strong, honest, determined girl, who taught me to be true to myself, to hold onto good friends, to breathe in the mountain air and find my own unique path, I thank you.
This fall, I can’t deny my gratitude for the small, extraordinary moments of this ordinary life. Please know that when I seem quiet, when I gaze off and away, it’s my way of imprinting the exquisite, excruciating beauty of this brief interval of time we share. It’s my way of simply saying thank you.